


You, me, and some Firewhisky

by mee4ever



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Coping, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heart-to-Heart, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Kissing, M/M, POV Harry Potter, Partying, Post-War, Truth or Dare, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 09:58:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7166516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mee4ever/pseuds/mee4ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were new dorm rules. The unity between houses was placed before anything else and all passwords were dropped. You could without a problem enter another house’s common room. It took months before the “eighth”-years started moving around. One day  Parvati broke the fued between the two houses that had been the most ruthless towards each other by going over to Slytherin and people realised it was actually okay. There had been a great deal of people lost in the Second Wizarding War; they were all equal in death. They were all equal in living. They were all equal in grief. Harry didn’t want to have anything to do with it. He didn’t want to spend time with his peers, he didn’t want to get hammered in company, he didn’t want to be surrounded by colours that weren’t his own. He wanted his bed, a bottle of Forewhiskey or sometimes just Hermione and Ron curled up next to him. But after a while, the two of them dragged him off to a party anyhow. A Slytherin party. </p><p>Or the one where Harry is forced into a game of Truth and Dare and the end result is not really what he'd excpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You, me, and some Firewhisky

**Author's Note:**

> (longest fucking summary ever but whatever)  
> okay so this is a prompt i’ve had for a really long time and i have not known what to do with it because it’s just not a thing i’d write. so i didn’t exactly write it. i changed a lot but hopefully it can be satisfactory anyhow!
> 
> Super cred to my beta [Alice](http://ladyteatotal.tumblr.com/)!! <3

The eight year… was one of the fucking weirdest. Pretty much everyone agreed that the year before (academically) didn’t really happen, so no student was surprised to get an owl from headmistress McGonagall, saying that _everyone_ needed to re-take all their classes from 97-98. Not many people complained either. It was good getting back to normal, and even if the first years were doubled the amount than it ever had before, it was worth it. Everyone got sort of a second chance. The seventh years got to go back and keep some of the normalcy they’d definitely needed after the war; Harry, Ron, and Hermione actually _went_ this time.

The school was restored to normal after summer break. There were no ruins and there were no dead bodies scattered across the floors. It was… calm. It was home. It was painful; it was worth it.

A great many things changed with the new headmistress, many things changed post-war but there was just so much at Hogwarts that in the beginning it was a bit overwhelming. The first thing that was new was counselling. Everyone had to go. There were individual and there were group sessions, everyone was encouraged to speak about their feelings, their memories, their dreams, their hopes and their losses. You didn’t need permission to start your own group, as long as you felt comfortable with some people, you did your thing. Work through everything that had happened.

Harry didn’t want anything like that. He wanted to forget.

Some rules were bendable. Teachers looked the other way when hung-over fifth years staggered into class on Monday morning (even if they did have talks one on one with them sometime during the following week, just to check up) and test were not as harshly evaluated. Homework was down prioritised. Learning in class was more encouraged, asking questions and getting answers instead of having to remember them. It was okay not to make it at all to class sometimes.

There were new dorm rules. The unity between houses was placed before anything else and all passwords were dropped. You could without a problem enter another house’s common room and in the beginning, only the new first years hung around in different coloured ties. Everyone else felt very distinguished, and didn’t feel like another house was really their territory but soon enough people started studying together. Just a Hufflepuff in the corner with her friend in the Ravenclaw common room and then there was a study group of third years, Badgers and Ravens with their Lion friends by the Gryffindor fire place. It took months, Christmas was well over and past, before the “eighth”-years started moving around. One day Parvati basically said “screw it” and went to see Tracey Davis in the Slytherin common room and after that, things started moving a lot. She opened an imaginary door between the two houses that had been the most ruthless towards each other during their whole attendance and suddenly the Gryffindors and the others just realised that if the two of them could, why couldn’t everyone else?

It wasn’t like all people were suddenly best friends. It wasn’t like Draco Malfoy ever showed up in the Gryffindor tower (he did go to Ravenclaw sometimes, though, Harry had heard) and it wasn’t like everyone got along. But they tried because it wasn’t worth fueling a rivalry that had started hundreds of years ago and nobody even gave a shit about. There had been a great deal of people lost in the Second Wizarding War; they were all equal in death. They were all equal in living. They were all equal in grief.

When the houses started joining up, having study groups in each other’s bedrooms and small TGIF-parties in the common rooms, Harry didn’t want to have anything to do with it. He didn’t want to spend time with his peers, he didn’t want to get hammered in company, he didn’t want to be surrounded by colours that weren’t his own. He wanted his bed, a bottle of Firewhisky or sometimes just Hermione and Ron curled up next to him. He banned anyone for throwing a dash in their conjoined space. Seamus muttered and Dean threw a fit, but they all agreed that there was a lot more rooms that could be used and Harry got as he wished.

Ginny let Harry go, but she never left him. They were close friends. Going through war and death was one thing but having Voldemort in your head was just something you couldn’t really find anyone else who actually understood. She loved him, but she recognized that Harry wasn’t in the right mind to give her what she ultimately needed. Harry was glad she was being honest about it even if it felt like a blow at first. He didn’t try dating. He mostly just hung around Ron and Hermione (who were so stupidly in love Harry sometimes wanted to vomit because _Merlin, keep the PDA down a notch, will ya?)_ Not that they listened to him.

To be honest, Harry felt like the only person in school who didn’t bloody date someone. Seamus and Dean had finally recognized that they wanted more than just friendship; Neville had found a girl in Hufflepuff who was the most adorable little woman Harry had ever seen; Luna and Ginny held hands most days even if Harry didn’t really know what was going on between them; Ron and Hermione; Parvati and the Slytherin Tracy; Pansy Parkinson had clung herself to a guy in the year below them. Even bloody _Malfoy_ was dating. He dated Theodore Nott. Or. Well, he had, for a while as far as Harry could tell, and then there was that other guy, and now it was Zabini. Not that Harry _kept track_ , he just… kept track.

Love was spreading through the castle walls like a disease but Harry only saw the desperation of it. Everyone was just _scared._ That tomorrow there would be something come knocking down the world again, they needed to make the most of everything right now because who knew if they’d be there tomorrow? It made sense, but it _didn’t make sense._ Fine, everything could end tomorrow but it _always_ could’ve ended tomorrow.

It was spring before his best friends dragged him to a party. A _Slytherin_ party _._ Of all the places they could drag him to, but he was the last goddamn person in the dorms who hadn’t been around yet and the only one left who thought it was weird. (Apparently the Slytherins’ threw the best parties, who would’ve guessed?) Harry had a ton of premature thoughts about these get togethers; like how he just _knew_ it would be boring because everyone would dance but him, he would just sit around and do nothing while his mood would just get worse and worse and the music would be worse and worse and the people would get pissed and become worse and worse. First of all, the party wasn’t even in the common room. So immediately Harry was faced with the fact that he was going to spend the night lounging in the eighth year boys bedroom. Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Zabini, and _Malfoy’s_ bedroom. He almost cracked a laugh just at that. But nobody else was complaining, even Hermione tripped around the room like she _knew it_ and wasn’t _that_ just the most bloody weird thing ever? Harry didn’t say anything about it. Music was filling the place, not very loudly, but enough not to be drowned by the many voices also roaming the air. It was almost exclusively eight years, which surprised Harry even more because why would there not be younger students?

Nobody had really explained things to him; since he hadn’t really _wanted_ to know before now. And now, it was a little too embarrassing to ask Hermione or Ron how to even behave in a situation like this. People were chatting and playing games, some were dancing and jumping around, a few couples sat in each other’s laps and kissed. They were all of legal age, Harry realised, so the alcohol people were sipping wasn’t even going to get them in trouble. (Even if it might not have been allowed to drink at Hogwarts, Harry didn’t actually know.) He didn’t really care either.

He found himself being dragged around by Ron, greeting people, talking for a while and moving on. Ron knew a lot of the people, Harry found that he barely remembered their names. They all said hello very warmly, he was still Harry Potter at the end of the day, but it was Ron they _talked_ to. It dawned on Harry that he’d been actively avoiding pretty much everyone for months and months and that this was really the first time he’d seen anyone outside of class that wasn’t his best friends or lived in his room.

He was exhausted after less than an hour. He wanted to go back to his bed. He laid down in one of the ones available for a little while but wasn’t left alone for a long time. Instead, Hermione made him sit with her in a game of _Truth or Dare_.

“I should head back,” Harry said and Greengrass was dared to eat a Bertie Botts Every Flavored Bean and Hermione gave him a look that said he wasn’t allowed to go back to the dorm yet. He sighed. McMillan was asked about his latest test score and then Hermione was asked about the colour of her underpants. It was a stupid game. Harry didn’t feel like sharing anything with these people, especially when he was wearing boxers with little golden snitches on them.

The game was actually a very clever spell. Somebody hexed another person's wand, making it float horizontally a few feet up in the air and when you spun it, you said “truth” or “dare”. When it stopped moving it wrote what you were going to do like ink in the air, either it was a question and after you answered the person it had landed on was next to spin, or it was a dare and if there was a person involved in the dare, of course, the next person was your to go to guy.

Everyone in the circle looked at Harry. Harry didn’t like it. Hermione nudged him and nodded towards the wand.

“It’s your turn, Harry.”

Harry rolled his eyes and spun the wand. “Dare,” he sighed. He’d defeated the Dark Lord, how bad could it be?

Kind of awfully, cringeworthy, disgustingly bloody bad apparently. Because the wand landed on Draco and wrote “Kiss...”. Fuck. ing. hell. Draco sat opposite Harry, looking paler than ever and like he’d just swallowed a lemon without chewing. Harry just shook his head.

“I’m leaving now,” he said and got up and everyone in the circle made disappointed sounds at the exact same moment. Harry rolled his eyes again. Draco and himself might not have been the worst enemies the school had ever seen anymore, but they hadn’t exactly been either friendly nor talking in the last year. It wasn’t like Harry cared that Draco was gay. It was just that the universe couldn’t have had him kiss _anyone else?_ It had to be Draco Malfoy? The boy who Harry had saved, the boy Harry had almost killed... It didn’t matter. Harry wasn’t going to kiss him anyway. He’d almost gone out the door before Ron caught up with him, asking if he wanted company back.

“No, it’s fine. Enjoy your evening, yeah?” And Ron nodded, gave him a hug and went back to stand beside Dean in another little circle of friends who knew each other. Harry left.

Once comfortable under his own covers, he felt utterly alone. It had worked so well, not going to all the parties and moping around because he knew that he didn’t miss out on anything. After going to one, he knew he was missing out a lot. Not the partying in itself, but the company, the friends, the… kissing. Everything. He wasn’t knowable anymore, he was a background figure and despite never liking being in the spotlight, he felt like maybe he at least wanted to be somewhere on the stage.

There was a knock on the door before it opened. Harry turned in his bed, to draw his curtain away when a slow voice rang.

“Potter?” Fuck. ing. hell.

“Go away, Malfoy.” The door closed again and Harry didn’t know whether it was because Draco had left, or stayed. It was quiet for a too long time for Harry to feel comfortable.

“Malfoy?”

“Yeah.” Harry decided that fuck it, let’s have a conversation with Draco Malfoy in the middle of the night because why not. Put yourself out there, Harry, become friends with your nemesis. Give the papers something to write about. He got out of bed, only wearing his PJ’s and he propped his glasses back upon the bridge of his nose. Draco stood leaning against the door and he looked so _awkward_ in the comfort of the Gryffindor room. Yet, Malfoy looked good. He had some colour to his cheeks, you wouldn’t cut yourself on his cheekbones anymore if you touched his face, his lanky self didn’t look like he was malnutritioned. Harry wondered if he himself had gotten back to normal too.

“Do you want a drink?” Harry asked because why not? Why not play pretend for a while?

Draco looked slightly taken aback. “Sure,” he said though and stepped up to Harry’s bed. Harry rummaged around in his trunk for a while before fishing up a bottle of fire coloured liquid and got rid of the cap. He sat down, back against the bed frame and Draco sat down next to him.

“Cheers,” he toasted, took a large gulp and held out the flask for Draco to take. Draco did so. He stared at the rim of the flask for a second before sipping a little at the contents. Harry almost laughed at the face he made once the liquor hit his tongue.

“Yeah,” Harry said, “it takes some time getting used to.”

“You drink this a lot?” Draco asked, making a face and Harry didn’t even care that it was a very personal question. He just nodded and took the bottle back.

“So what are you doing here? Gotten tired of slitherin’ with your normal boys and decided to try and downgrade to a Gryffindor loser?” The look on Draco’s face, this time, made Harry laugh. It was funny, simply because Harry couldn’t usually draw all of these faces out of Draco. He was always so composed, and if he ever had turned into something else, it had been angry. Surprised Draco was new, awkward Draco was new. He passed the bottle again, giving it a swing in front of Draco’s face before he accepted it.

“Guess they’re more tired of me,” Draco muttered and took a mouthful of whiskey. Honest, open, _vulnerable_ Draco was new. Harry stared at him and found that he quite liked it. The honesty and stuff, not _Draco_.

“Well, at least you’re not hiding in your room most days because you’re not ready to face the world.”

“Shut up, I sleep around because I don’t know how else to cope.”

“I get drunk in my bed and my girlfriend left me because I wasn’t enough.”

“My father died in Azkaban and I almost was sent there too.”

“All my parents or guardians have either fucking died or loathed the sight of me.”

“I can’t get rid of the Dark Mark.”

“I have “I must not tell lies” permanently on the bridge of my hand.”

“I almost killed you.”

“I almost killed you.” Harry took another swig. He snorted and threw his head back against the bed. Draco was watching him when Harry sneaked a peek.

“You saved me, too. More than once. I think your karma is evened out.” Then Draco didn’t look at him anymore. Harry thought about that. How they’d basically just murdered each other a few times and how, when it all came down to it, they never actually wanted the other one dead. He glanced over at the other boy again.

“What _are_ you doing here, Malfoy?” Draco licked the edge of the bottle neck, not answering. Harry wasn’t sure he would’ve heard it because he was too busy racking his brain as to why his heart was beating so fast all of a sudden. For a second, he was entirely sure he was feeling the beginnings of a panic attack but his hands didn’t feel heavy, his mind didn’t spin _that way_ and he didn’t breathe out of normal. He snagged the liquor from Draco’s hands.

“The wand pointed towards where you sat and said. “Go after.” They made me leave. So. Here I am. You, me, and a some Firewhisky.”

“Sharing a bottle with… what? Your arch enemy? I think we’re a bit too old for that one. Classmate maybe?”

Draco shrugged.

Harry shrugged. What did it matter?

The bottle was finished too fast. When being two to share, it took way less time to empty it than being alone. Harry threw it down in his trunk again, and now when they didn’t even have it to pass between them, Harry wondered once again what the hell Draco was playing at. Now they’d shared their deepest darkest secrets and a bottle of hard liquor, what else could he want? Why had he even wanted those two things to begin with?

“So…” Harry said, drawing out the word because he wasn’t sure how to continue. “Zabini dumped your arse, then?”

“So, you’re an alcoholic, then?” Draco retorted. Harry laughed. Draco snorted. Neither one of them denied anything. Draco’s voice had started to slur, Harry thought it was _adorable._ He was too out of it to even react to the fact that he thought _anything_ about Draco Malfoy was “adorable”. The blond had somehow found his way closer to Harry, their arms touching and Harry looked down at him again. Stupid Malfoy to not know about personal space. Weird Harry to not care to move away.

“Do you want me to make good of my dare?” He asked before his brain registered that it was going to make his mouth say something.

“Y _es._ ”

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Harry said. “Nemesis’! Isn’t _that_ what we are? Since the day I denied you friendship. You wouldn’t want me to do… that.”

“Are you still doing it?”

“What?”

“Denying me your friendship.”

“I don’t know; I did just share my booze with you. You almost apologized. I guess we can be friends.”

“We could just seal that in with a kiss.”

“Handshake not enough nowadays?”

“No,” Draco said firmly. “No, it isn’t.” So Harry looked at Draco again, really looked, and he was just now realising that he maybe wasn’t so opposed to kissing those lips. Draco’s ears were flushed pink. Harry thought that was cute. He tipped his head forward, just a little and Draco breathed out sharply. The hot air hit Harry softly on his chin and he thought that he hadn’t been this close to another person in ages. It felt nice. He thought, maybe, it could feel even nicer and then he crashed his mouth onto Draco’s.

Kissing wasn’t friendly. Harry knew that, it wasn’t like he went around kissing his friends all the time, but somehow Draco’s argument had made sense at the time, the time being _before_ Harry actually kissed him. With his lips still pressed to the other boy’s, he felt a surge in his stomach and when he pulled back, he leaned in just as quickly again; capturing Draco’s lips again like he hadn’t known how _good_ it felt kissing someone. Maybe he had forgotten. Maybe he just was a bit too drunk to realise what he was doing. But if he was, Draco was even further gone, because his arms came up to rest around Harry’s neck, pulling him in further, keeping him close enough to kiss even as they parted. Harry had yet to close his eyes. Draco now opened his.

“Potter,” he said.

“Malfoy,” Harry answered and dove forward, his mission to _taste_ Draco this time. Draco compliantly parted his lips and the sensation of the tips of their tongues connecting sent a jolt strong enough to have Harry topple over had he not already been seated on the floor. He must’ve made a sound, but he didn’t know what sort of sound or how loud; all he knew was that Draco _whined_ when he heard it and slid his tongue further inside of Harry’s mouth. _Merlin,_ Harry had time to think before he grabbed a hold of Draco’s waist and managed to move the blond so he instead sat in Harry’s lap. Draco kissed him once more.

They stayed like that, kissing, gasping, pressing, for a long while. Harry didn’t really reflect one what was going on other than the fact that he relished in it. It wasn’t until Draco left his mouth for a minute to try his way at other parts of Harry’s head (specifically: his ear) that Harry said something.

“Friends, huh?”

“Fuck ‘friends’,” Draco breathed. His words tickled Harry’s neck and Harry turned his head so they looked each other in the eye.

Boldly, he stated: “I thought that was _exactly_ what you were trying to do.”

Malfoy’s whole face turned red this time. He murmured something about them being drunk and Harry scoffed. If Draco wanted to shag him sober, he’d have to shag him during class. Not that he seriously thought about _doing it_ with the blond one. _Unseriously_ , he thought it was the best bloody idea ever and he wondered why they weren’t _already_ doing it. Harry moved his hands to Draco’s lower back and pushed him closer, simultaneously rutting his hips forwards.

“ _Harry!_ ” Draco hissed. Harry had to stare at him, frozen in place, eyes impossibly wide and mouth hanging open. Had Draco ever called him that before? Harry didn’t think so.

“Well, we _are_ friends now,” Draco defended himself and his gaze flickered.

“I think that might still be a little too soon, Malfoy.”

“We’re _kissing,_ Potter.”

“Right,” Harry said and kissed him again.

Draco didn’t protest when Harry did that, nor when Harry sucked purple marks to his neck, nor did he complain when he roamed his hands underneath his ridiculously white dress shirt. He did, however, grasp at Harry’s wrist when Harry tried to get rid of clothes.

“Potter.”

 _“Malfoy,_ ” Harry mocked his tone. Draco rolled his eyes and sat back on his heels, putting space between them; between their bodies, between their lips. Harry didn’t like it. After having the other boy so close and in such a way, Harry didn’t ever want to stop. Things didn’t make sense, but they _did_. It was like castles love spell had just seeped into Harry and he wanted it to consume him, he wanted the disease to infect him through and through and he wanted Draco to be his cure. _Shit_. He must’ve been really drunk.

“Why are you doing this?” Draco asked. If Harry wouldn’t have been so caught up in his thoughts, he might have heard the fragility in those words, but instead, he found them defensive.

“Desperation,” he answered. On some levels it was true. His friends were doped up on sex and hormones because they were scared and desperate to miss out. Harry had finally found his own place in all of it, in the hands of Draco Malfoy and if that wasn’t desperate, Harry didn’t know what was. Draco’s face was another mask when Harry looked up, one that Harry had seen too many times and that he wore himself in times of despair. He looked _really_ defensive. He told Harry that _he_ wasn’t desperate and that Harry could go fuck himself. Draco stood up and tried taking a few steps. And yes, the first few steps actually could pass as stepping but the fourth was nothing above a wobble and the fifth was a plane crash waiting to happen. The alcohol had gone to his head, Harry thought and watched as Draco staggered a few more steps before finally giving up and slumping down into a pile in front of the door. Harry drew a breath.

“Fuck you, Potter,” Draco wheezed before Harry even had a chance to say something.

“You made it very clear you didn’t want that.”

“Fuck. You.”

“Why did you do it then? Why are you here?”

“Because I’m a pathetic loser.”

“Thanks,” Harry said. The only person who had wanted to kiss Harry in forever was a pathetic loser apparently and it didn’t make Harry feel any better about himself. Great. Amazing. He should just go to bed. He considered leaving Draco on the floor, he’d drunk himself into a mess. It wasn’t like Harry had forced him. He could manage himself. But Harry’s tolerance was higher, he didn’t shake or stumble when he stood up and took a few steps so he walked over to Draco and hauled him up. Draco stared at him intently, like he might consider hexing Harry but said nor did nothing as Harry lead him towards his bed again. He let go of Draco’s shoulders and the other boy basically fell down as soon as he wasn’t supported anymore. With an ‘umf’ he hit the mattress and Harry slumped down beside him. He shrugged his shoulders at Draco’s stare and laid down, closed his eyes before his head even hit the pillow. It was quiet for a beat before Draco started twisting and making himself comfortable next to Harry. Against Harry. When Harry carefully opened one eye, Draco’s face was just there. Like he was already asleep. Harry poked his head forward, pushing the tips of their noses slightly together. Draco’s eyes fluttered open.

Softly, Harry asked again, “Why are you here?”

“Desperation,” Draco whispered and they both settled with that.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this might all be so ooc but i don't really care? sorrynotsorry.
> 
> Like my stuff? [Buy me a coffee!](https://www.buymeacoffee.com/mee4ever)


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